Those who've gone before: Robyn the Vampire Slayer
by Tiefling
Summary: The story of one of the slayers who lived and died before Buffy was chosen.
1. Default Chapter

Those who have gone before: Robyn, the Vampire Slayer  
The name 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' belongs to Joss Whedon.  
I have used 'The Dictionary of Omens and Superstitions' by Phillipa Waring as research   
material. This book is interesting, but I wouldn't rely on its accuracy, since it contains the   
following amusing passage  
'The New Zealand emu (!?!) is believed to be a harbinger of good luck and its flesh a cure for   
many illnesses'  
I have also used information from one of Majin Gojira's helpful forum posts about different   
types of vampires.  
All the characters in this story are my own creations.  
On with the tale!  
  
  
"Beetles" said David, feinting to the right.  
"John, Paul, George and Ringo" said Robyn, seeing through the feint and parrying to the left,   
and making a lunge of her own.  
David attacked again, faster this time.  
"Seriously" he said, sounding very serious indeed.  
"An omen of death if one walks over your shoe" said Robyn, launching another counterattack.   
David backed up, on the defensive as she continued.  
"According to Scottish superstition there is bad luck in store for you if a beetle enters the room   
when your family is seated". She had driven him back towards the table now and could hardly   
suppress a small, self-satisfied smile.   
"But?"  
Robyn was momentarily distracted, unable to remember anything more on the subject of   
beetles. A moment was all David needed to gain the upper hand again. Before she knew it,   
he was behind her, and a blow with the flat of the blade took her legs out from under her.   
Within seconds she was crouching, ready to get up but it was too late. David stood over her,   
his face serious, his sword-point an inch from her throat.  
"But even worse luck will follow if you kill it".  
He lowered his blade and extended a hand to help her up. Sometimes Anna could have   
sworn that her watcher had supernatural powers of his own. She noted with some small   
satisfaction that her watcher was panting slightly. She herself had not even raised a sweat.   
But then, David was old. At least thirty-five. The slayer herself was fourteen. She was newly   
called and not yet accustomed to all her new abilities, let alone her new responsibilities.  
"You need to work on your concentration some more young lady" David said sternly. He never   
missed an opportunity to nag. "If I was a vampire, you'd be dead"  
"If you were a vampire you wouldn't be giving me a pop quiz on old-fashioned superstitions in   
the middle of a fight" Robyn said, then instantly regretted it.   
"Revise omens tonight. Waring's 'Signs' pages 103 to 155".   
"But I have to patrol tonight"  
"Then do it before sunset"  
"But I-"  
Robyn broke off, seeing his grim expression. With a sigh, she hefted her bag and headed off   
to school.  
  
Robyn had not always divided her time between stalking the undead and studying dusty   
tomes on rituals and demon hunting. There had been a time, less than a year ago, when her   
biggest worry was passing her chemistry exam. Ever since she was a little girl she had   
wanted, oh so badly wanted, to be a vet. She was going to study hard, finish school, passing   
everything with flying colours, and get into vet science. Once she started university, and was   
in the course she wanted, she would slack off a little and enjoy Uni life. Get drunk on bad   
cask wine, go to toga parties, lose her virginity, dye her hair purple. Go to protest rallies and   
wave placards about land rights for gay whales. Maybe even get an education. There's a time   
and a place for everything, and it's called Uni.   
But Robyn knew that none of this was going to happen now, not for her. Not for the   
Slayer. She had all but dropped out of school now. She had little time for study and only went   
along to some of her classes for appearance's sake. Mrs Wilkins, her form teacher had called   
her mother in to ask about her frequent absence notes and late assignments. From her   
mother's vague answers the kindly Mrs Wilkins was now under the impression that Robyn   
was suffering from some kind of terminal illness. Which, Robyn reflected dryly, may as well be   
the case. Slayers did not have great long term job prospects. No vacations, no   
superannuation, no sick pay. Just the dubious comfort that, without you in it, the world would   
be an even nastier place.   



	2. Chapter 2

  
Those who have gone before ch. 2  
  
Robyn's room was a fairly typical example of a fourteen-year old girl's bedroom. The walls   
were covered in posters of pop stars and the floor was covered in dirty clothes. There was a   
small bed with a frilly white bedspread and several stuffed animals propped against the   
pillows. But Robyn was not a typical fourteen-year-old girl. In the pile of books on her desk   
English and Chemistry textbooks were sandwiched between much older more esoteric   
volumes, bound in what she could only hope was cow leather and decorated with mysterious   
symbols. Robyn changed into her patrolling clothes and stood for a moment, admiring herself   
in the mirror. Slim body, (still no hips), small, pert breasts, long athletic limbs.   
'Pity I have no time for boys' she mused.   
In the dim light of her desk lamp her face in the glass looked creepy, the skin waxy pale. Her   
deep-set grey eyes were ringed with dark circles.  
"Some Europeans say that it is unlucky to see yourself in a mirror by candlelight" she said   
aloud.  
"Dammit! I've got those stupid superstitions on the brain! David will be so pleased"   
  
Later that night, as Robyn sat at her desk in her bedroom, hunched over her copy of Waring's   
'Signs' and a cup of hot milo, there was a knock at the door.  
"Come in!" Robyn called.  
Her mother stuck her head around the door, looking worried.  
"Sorry to disturb your homework, honey, but Mr Walton is on the phone."  
Robyn grimaced, and stood up.  
"Thanks Mum", she said, and went to the phone.  
David got straight to the point.  
"You may not have been aware of this, but the University Anthropology museum has for some   
time been under threat of closure."  
"No, I wasn't aware of that" said Robyn, her tone dripping sarcasm. She disliked David   
intensely, blaming him for making her duty harder than it needed to be. He never cut her any   
slack.  
"Well, it had been" David continued, ignoring the insolence in her tone. "All in the name of   
economic rationalism". He pronounced this word the way another person would say 'bile' "The   
bastards have no time for an enterprise which does not make money. God forbid a university   
should keep open a facility simply because it was educational!"   
"David, I really ought to get back to my studies now. I was just-"  
"Wait a minute young lady. This is important. The museum is closing, and for some time the   
University has been attempting to sell off, or otherwise find homes for the artefacts it used to   
store. Many of these artefacts had been given the museum in trust, for safe-keeping. This   
includes a number of Aboriginal artefacts which were of deep significance to the tribes who   
used to live in the area." He paused.  
"Are you listening Robyn?"  
"Of course. I'm just waiting for you to get to the 'this is the monster- here's how to kill it' part"  
" There may not be any monster. As I was saying, the museum has been trying to sell or find   
homes for all these artefacts, but they have not been entirely successful. Several artefacts,   
which were not valuable enough to sell, are to be packaged up and simply thrown away.   
They're sending a truck around to collect them tomorrow. Which is why we have to be at the   
museum tonight."  
"Why do we have to go and look at a load of old junk?"  
"It's possible that in the act of removing the artefacts from their cases, vengeful spirits will be   
disturbed."  
"You want me to go and hang around a closed museum in the middle of the night just on the   
off-chance that there'll be 'vengeful spirits' roaming around? Jesus David! You'd think we lived   
on the Hellmouth or something!  
  
David drove Robyn to the University grounds, then waited in the car while she went to check   
things out. She insisted that he remain behind, saying that he couldn't move as quietly as she   
could, but the truth was she just wanted a break from his whingeing about the unfairness of   
the museum's closure. That he had agreed confirmed her suspicion that she was unlikely to   
meet anything unpleasant that night. The campus was deserted, which was not surprising,   
since it was 10pm on a Thursday. Student night.   
'They'll all be at the pub' Robyn thought jealously, as she strode past the bus stop. ('If one   
wants to drink to excess and not be the worse for wear, the Welsh recommend roasting and   
eating the lungs of a pig…')Robyn herself was not yet old enough to drink, but she longed to   
be indoors surrounded by crowds of happy, chatting people. Scratch that, she wanted to be   
one of those people. People who can go out and party and not have to get up early in the   
morning. People who can stay out all night without breaking a single nail or getting covered in   
blood, ash or demonic bodily fluids.   
  
She passed through a stone archway and into a large, grassy courtyard. It was deserted,   
which was what she expected. The campus wasn't usually haunted by anything scarier than   
the occasional lecturer, working late during exams. Robyn was pretty sure David was   
overreacting again. It wasn't as if they lived on a Hellmouth or something. In the glow of the   
security lights she consulted the campus map. Once sure she had the right building, she went   
to the old wooden doors and tried the handle. ('It is bad luck to open the front door to a house   
unless the back door is closed'). It was locked. With a sharp twist of her wrist she yanked the   
handle free from the wood. She allowed herself a small, self-satisfied smile. Whatever else   
she thought of being the slayer, being able to turn hardwood into matchsticks with her bare   
hands was pretty cool.  
  
Inside, Robyn waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then surveyed   
the room. The walls were lines with empty shelves. The few remaining artefacts were packed   
into crates which were haphazardly piled in the middle of the floor. They looked sort of…sad.   
Now that she thought about it, David had a point, for once. She lifted the lid of an unsealed   
crate and peered inside. It was full of small objects wrapped in some old-fashioned non-  
biodegradable packing material. She selected one, and turned it over in her hands. Sure, it   
was just a piece of broken crockery, but it was a really old piece of broken crockery. Certainly   
older than she was. A further search of the crates revealed most of them to be full of   
aboriginal artefacts- stone axes (To carry an axe into a house may bring a death in the   
family…), weapons and wooden objects she couldn't identify. But the room was empty of   
anyone living, and if there were any troubled spirits around she could not see them. She   
decided to call it a night, and carefully returned the artefacts to their proper place. She pulled   
the door closed behind her, feeling a little guilty about the broken lock. Then again, she   
supposed that no-one was likely to steal any of this stuff. If any of it was really valuable, no   
doubt the University would have found a way to sell it by now.  
Rather than accept that her trip out to the University had been a total waste of time,   
Robyn decided to make a brief tour of the campus before leaving. David could wait. There   
was a small forest near the library, and young couples had been known to fraternise among   
the trees. (In some primitive societies it was once believed that a man who cut off the branch   
of a tree would lose one of his own limbs…) That sort of thing always seemed to attract   
vampires, so the slayer headed towards the forest. The moon was a thin crescent, so the   
slayer had to pick her way carefully along the dimly lit path. The trees grew so thickly by the   
sides of the path that she couldn't see more than a few meters beyond it. Suddenly, the air   
was pierced by an angry shriek. The slayer whirled, stake in hand, then relaxed. Just some   
possums fighting. She stopped to admire a huge strangler fig. It was easily five meters   
across, and the nearest of its buttress roots was twice as thick as the Chosen One's legs.   
This gigantic parasite must be over a hundred years old. Robyn peered through the lattice of   
the roots to the cavern within, which had once housed the now long-dead host tree, and   
shivered. 'Better head back to the car' she thought, and turned to go. Then something struck   
her from above. The slayer glimpsed something vaguely humanoid, with a huge, cavernous   
mouth. Hands with rubbery red skin closed on her.  
('Trees were once believed to be the homes of wood spirits…') The slayer lapsed out of   
consciousness.  



End file.
